


Once More Between Friends

by gaslightgallows (hearts_blood)



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Bad Parenting, Drinking, Female Friendship, Gen, Old Friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 07:23:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5448119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_blood/pseuds/gaslightgallows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mac needs a drinking partner to complain to. Phryne's heard it all before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once More Between Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whiskeyandjack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandjack/gifts).



> Prompt: “Give me a bottle of whiskey and I’ll do anything you want.” 
> 
> For Whiskeyandjack, with permission. ♥ Was originally going to be part of [You Asked For It](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4799084), but I felt it would be better as a standalone.

“Miss Fisher,” said Mr. Butler apologetically when she and the inspector arrived at Wardlow, “there’s been an urgent telephone call from Dr. MacMillan. She requests your presence at the bar of the Iphis Club.”

Phryne frowned. “She knew Jack and I had plans this evening. Did she say why?”

“She said, and I quote, ‘Lucy’s got the wind up and I need someone to get drunk with.’”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “The doctor’s new lady friend?” he asked carefully.

“I wish.” Phryne rubbed slowly at her temples. “‘Lucy’ is Mac’s mother.”

“Ah. And they don’t get on, I take it.”

“About as good as my father and I do.”

“Ah,” said Jack again, understanding. “In that case, can I give you a lift?”

He dropped her off outside a simple enough establishment housed behind an unobtrusive brick facade bearing the name “The Iphis Ladies’ and Gentlemen’s Club” in quiet gold lettering on the front door. “Will you and Dr. MacMillan need a ride back?” he asked.

Phryne smiled and kissed his cheek. “I suspect we’ll be at that bar until the sun comes up,” she told him, straightening her hat with a gesture like a gladiator girding her loins. “You have no idea how lucky you are, to have been on good terms with your parents.”

Jack’s return smile was lopsided. “Give Mac my best,” he told her. “If she can’t be at work in the morning, I’ll make sure it’s not a problem.”

Gathering her gloves and her clutch, Phryne climbed out of his car and squared her shoulders. She was in for a long night. “Hallo, Gerry, darling!” she greeted the doorperson (whether Gerry was male or female, Phryne had never been informed and didn’t feel pressed to learn). 

“Evening, miss.” A white-gloved hand held open the door for you. “Dr. MacMillan came in not too long ago.”

“Yes, I know… fuming?”

“Could practically see the smoke coming from her ears.”

“Oh, joy.” Phryne took a deep breath to steady herself. “Well, wish me luck!”

Gerry tugged their blue cap respectfully. “Godspeed, miss.” 

Inside, Phryne relinquished her hat and wrap and gloves to the cloakroom attendant, and then made her way with some trepidation into the Iphis’s bar, where already she could hear Mac’s voice. “I _said_ , I want another!”

“Not just yet, Doctor,” said the bartender, a grandmotherly-looking woman called Sal who not only made cocktails to rival Mr. Butler’s, but also had one of the meanest right hooks Phryne had ever seen. She was also, by virtue of nature and experience, adept at soothing belligerent drinkers. “How about a canapé?”

Mac replied with precision just what Sal could go and do with her canapés. 

“Mac, you’re a doctor, you should know that’s not physically possible.” Phryne slid onto the stool beside Mac. “You started without me.”

“You took too long.” Mac drained the rest of her whiskey and set the glass down on the bar with a meaningful glare at the bartender. “And I wasn’t sure if you were coming. I thought I remembered something about you and Jack Robinson having a date tonight.”

“We did. This was more important.”

“Oh, I’m sure he _loved_ that…”

“He drove me here.”

Mac snorted loudly. “You have him so wrapped around your little finger, he might as well be a pinky ring with marvelous cheekbones.”

“What are you drinking?” Phryne asked, rolling her eyes. Mac held up an empty bottle. “Ugh, no thank you. No wonder you’re already drunk.” 

“Unfortunately, Phryne, I am not yet drunk. Just loud and angry.”

“Ah, well, in that case…” Phryne turned to Sal with a cordial smile and asked for a bottle of Glenfiddich. “The next one’s on me.”

She waited until Mac had the first glass down her throat before broaching the subject. “So, what’s got your mother’s knickers in a twist now?”

“Oh, the same as ever,” Mac snarled. “I’m embarrassing her with my tweeds and my ‘carousing’ and my medical degrees, I’m a terrible daughter who never visits and does nothing to support her – never mind that I bought the house she’s living in and pay all of her bills – I have no respect for the work she put into raising me after Dad died—”

“She didn’t put _any_ work into raising you after your father died,” Phryne interrupted, with a high indignant tone that made Mac smile in spite of herself, “you were in England with us long before that happened.”

“Oh yes, and when I do turn up of an evening, she bitterly regrets ever letting me go to England with those disreputable Fishers to further my education. I was obviously too young and innocent to know what perils I was letting myself in for. Clearly it ruined me forever…” Mac sighed and reached for the bottle. “My mother is the epitome of broken record.” She looked sideways at Phryne and smiled rather bitterly. “Sorry. You’ve been listening to all of this nonsense since I was fourteen years old.”

“I have.” Phryne took the bottle from Mac and poured out two fresh tumblers. “And you’ve been listening to me complain about my parents since I was twelve.” She held up her glass. “What’s once more between friends?”

Mac’s smile finally crept into her eyes.


End file.
